#120 Shame

#119 Why Is It So Hard?

All I did was try to attend a flu clinic and now I am overwhelmed with anxiety.
I went to the office at 2:15pm but there were too many people! I read my book and went back at 3:30...too many people! I sat downstairs for twenty minutes and tried one more time. I didn't look at the adults and children waiting in the hall and got as far as putting my hand on the door. The reception room was full with kids all over the floor. Now the panic came in waves. I couldn't breathe. My heart was pounding so hard I thought they could hear it inside. I ran.
I cried all the way home. I hate this. It is so ridiculous. This is one of those days when I cannot stand to be seen. I cannot walk through a group of people with nothing to do but stare at me. Kids are the worst. I become upset around them, I think, because they are so unpredictable.

How I would love to hurt myself right now; just to calm myself down and help me forget. Why is everything so hard?

#118 Man of the House

“Be strong...
look after your Mother and Sister.”
i nod agreeably.
This Doctor,
who has come to the house
to declare my Father dead,
hands me a pill...
and appoints me,
the youngest,
head of this fragmented Family.

i take the job
because
the shining centre,
my older brother,
has been murdered by a drunk driver
just six months ago.

The Sun was gone
and now my Dad is gone too.

Through those dark winter months
i watched cancer
dig this second hole
in our wretched, despairing, despondent Family.

“Off to church we go,
God will help you cope
when I am gone.”
But He didn’t Dad,
because i didn’t know how to ask.

So,
here am i...the
ill-equipped replacement.
“Bring home the bacon,
dress the part,
take care of everyone!”
Where are my blue tights and cape?

Reeling from this double disaster,
i keep trying to conquer my fear,
to outrun sickness and accident
that can come in the night
and take another one of us.

Trying to keep everyone safe
didn’t leave time
for growing up.
i became the Man of the House
when i was just a scared little girl.

#117 "I Hate You!"

What is the worst thing that I can think?
What is the worst thing that I can feel?
What is the very worst thing that I can say?

"I Hate You! I Hate You! I Hate You!"

It feels powerful!

She thinks she has all the power.
She has the power to humiliate, to thrash, to reject, to leave me.

But here are words that take some of that power.
Scary words. Hurtful words. Powerful words.

"I Hate You! I Hate You! I Hate You!"
I feel a little stronger.
I can endure another day.
I will survive!

#116 OutRunning Anxiety.

#115 What Should I Do?

when
my frustration
is as high
as it is today,
I want to
cry, scream,
throw something,
tell someone off,
hit something,
hurt someone,
commit mayhem,
commit myself.

#114 Self-Injury

'self-injure' , also called self harm, self-mutilation, is defined as any intentional injury to one's own body.

People assume that I injure myself to get their attention. Who would be that crazy? By the time I have hurt myself, I no longer care what people think. Thankfully they are no longer on my radar. If I have gone to the edge of the world and come back alive, only because I have cut or burned myself, then it doesn't matter how crazy people think I am.
I am alive!
I have survived a firestorm once again!

I can't say when I first discovered that physical pain douses the fire in my brain and makes me feel calm and safe again, but I suspect that I was a pretty small child.
Because there is no logic to it and most adults are afraid to cut or burn themselves, few understand that it actually takes away the panic. Immediately after I get the rush of physical pain, I am filled with a peace and calmness that has been absent for days or weeks. I am aware of the pain but, nonetheless, the relief is amazing. I am happy to feel in control of something again
Those who judge me crazy cannot appreciate the fact that, for some of us, self-injury can be a matter of survival.
A few hours or days into recovery I am flooded with shame.
I am embarrassed to be alive.

#113 Diss-O-ciation

'diss-O-ssociate' means to become separate from, detached or disconnected. In this case, I am talking about a 'going away from myself''. Trying to describe it is like trying to describe a vacuum...emptiness.
At the point where my emotions have taken over my existence, I must leave. My safe place is dissociation. I drift away until I am out of sight and sound of my own anxiety and anger. Out there in space, I find peace, for hours or days on end.
The problem begins when some part of me wants or needs to come back but I cannot make it happen.
"I must get back, people are getting mad at my absence; think, how did I get here; surely I can get back the same way, if only I could remember how I got here." I blink my eyes to get them focused; I concentrate on understanding what people are saying.
It isn't working! I'm scared."
I leave myself again!

#112 Fragile Self Esteem

My fragile self esteem lets me down again.

#111 It's Not OK to Feel This Way

I have always imagined that other people can see into my head and know what I am thinking, and more important, what I am feeling. I guess I figured out when I was a little kid, that my mother knew when I was mad and that I would be punished for it. Eventually I came to believe that others knew when I was having inappropriate feelings and I had better find some way to make the feelings go away.
Thus was born the one who beats up on me.
She began by calling me "stupid, stuPID, STUPID!" Later, other name-calling and lecturing, and finally, physical abuse!
Now someone tells me, after all these years, that I can feel whatever I feel. "It's everyone's right to feel however they feel about anything," seems to miss the point of all this. It isn't about what normal people are allowed to do. Normal people don't have feelings like I do, by definition, if I feel it... it is bad!
When I am angry or jealous or afraid or sad, I think I am being childish. The child-in-me is misbehaving and must be stopped. She must be stopped before anyone finds out. I will use whatever I can think up: reasoning, name-calling, shaming, burning, cutting. Whatever!

#110 Hurtling off a Cliff

Once more
I find myself hurtling off a cliff.
Even though
it is familiar territory
it is terrifying.
Even though
I know I am projecting myself
into a future rife with catastrophes
that may never even happen.
I cannot help myself.
I am already there
I know for certain
that I will not survive.

but
I am here also,
in the present,
and nothing bad has happened...
yet
I want to believe that
something will intervene
but I cannot.
I hope that
someone will be there to help me
but I do not.
I try to remember that
I have been here before
and lived,
but it is no use.

I know
exactly how it will play out
and
I am scared one minute
and angry the next.
It isn't fair.
I cannot go through this again.

But
once again,
the panic swallows me up
and hurtles me off the cliff...

There is
no landing in sight.

#109 A Prayer for Today

O God,
right now I am feeling anxious and afraid.
These challenges are too daunting.
I don't know quite what to do next.
I ask for the help to calm down,
to do my best,
with you beside me and within me.

Keep me in the hollow of your hand.
When I am tossed to and fro
with the winds of adversity,
and the blasts of sickness and misunderstanding;
still my racing heart,
quiet my troubled mind.

Almighty God,
you know our needs before we ask
and our ignorance in asking;
have compassion on our weakness,
and give us those things
which, for our unworthiness,
we dare not,
and for our blindness,
we cannot ask.

this day and always,
Amen.

#108 Belted

#107 Molten Rage

#106 Unable to Speak

Sometime, early on, I became afraid to speak my feelings. I don't know when it started but I found that it was the safest way to survive in that household. I kept silent while another member of the family screamed, night after night. They refused to hear her, so I could not understand what she was trying to accomplish. She wanted her feelings heard, I guess, but she was wasting her breath.

I locked mine inside my head where they kept only me awake, night after night. Sometimes they grew terrifyingly shrill and flooded my whole body. I still couldn’t speak them but I acted them out. Waiting until I was alone, I would create pain...pain that would instantly drain away the terror...bringing peace to my mind and body.

Seeing the bruises, burns and cuts reassured me that I made the right decision and I was safe for the time being.

#105 My First Big Mistake

You know how farm kids are discouraged from naming the animals so they won't grow attached to them...
and you know how we don't give names to our bad feelings in hope that they will just go away without disrupting our lives...
and you know how it is better not to name our mistakes...

Well, I was that mistake.

My parents had two daughters and then a son; the next year a stillborn son; and then another pregnancy...a replacement for the lost boy.

With months to go, I was named, Wayne Frank.
When the big day arrived, what should appear. Me! A Girl! I was a GIRL!
It was not what they ordered. It was not what they wanted. It was a colossal mistake.

Frequently, throughout my childhood, I would be reminded of this really, really serious error that I made on my very first day of life.
I was NOT-A-BOY.

So I was nameless for 10 days; no likelihood of attachment there; maybe it will just fade away if we ignore it; maybe if we don't name this mistake, it isn't ours.
One day my father met a little girl and asked her name. The borrowed name became mine...Rylee, the mistake.

#104 Here We Go Again!

I know it is typical for us Borderlines to feel rage when our therapist announces she is taking some time off. I am feeling it more this time than usual I guess because I am FEELING it instead of suppressing it.
But I am also feeling the HURT.
Why trust someone??? She says that I am special but she still leaves me!!!
I was special to some people once-upon-a-time...

My Dad got sick when I was 3 and he left me;
my mother got scared and she left me too;
my big sister got married and she left as well;
my big brother went soldeiring and he died.

I wasn't "special" to anyone anymore.and I forgot how to trust!
But I didn't forget how to HURT!

I am oh so angry.
I want the inside pain to hurt on the outside.
The little me could handle outside pain but not the pain of being left again!!!

#103 ...and then there were two

#102 Self Diagnosis

"I Hate You - don't leave me!" The book screams at me from the shelf. I know exactly what that means but the subtitle confuses me, "Understanding Borderline Personality Disorder." I run home and devour it's contents in a few hours. This book is all about me! How can that be? I don't know what B.P.D. is and I've never heard of a personality disorder.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a mental illness that causes intense mood swings, impulsive behaviours and severe problems with relationships and self-worth.

I shove the book across the desk of my family physician and stammer..."this is about me!" Barely looking at it, "of course it is," she snaps. I stop breathing. Which psychiatrist or which hospitalization produced this diagnosis is not to be revealed. Apparently, there is no requirement to share this kind of information with a patient. What good would it do? There is no cure.

For people with this personality disorder long-term relationships are usually impossible and marriage is rare. Relationships with helping agencies also tend to be fraught with problems, making treatment by psychotherapy or drugs difficult.

The more I read about BPD the more humiliated I am. All of it is true but it embarrasses me to see it in print. It feels like everyone knows now, although I have not disclosed my discovery to anyone. My roller coaster life starts to show a pattern. As long as I can remember, valleys of depression have alternated with mountains of panic. When the trolley is about to fly off the track I resort to burning or cutting myself to maintain some feeling of control.

People with BPD exhibit a frantic fear of abandonment that may lead to problems with anger, injuring themselves or suicide attempts.

I am in shock for a long time until I realize that naming the bogeyman gives me power. Since it has a name then there are others like me out there.

I get a new doctor and a new therapist.
I am not alone anymore.

#101 Countdown Living

It is strange to think how much of my life I have spent in countdown mode.

Right now, I am worried about an upcoming event and this morning, as soon as I was awake, I heard myself think...in 72 hours it will be all over.

Being a chronic worrier, there is generally something up ahead that I think might turn out bad.
And so starts the countdown...two weeks, one week, six days, five days, four days, three days, day-after-tomorrow it will be over; in 24 hours I can forget about it (for now).

Forever counting down my life; trying to get to the other side of the bad stuff.
Even I can see that this is not living. It isn't even living in the future.
It's living in fear.

#100 The Division Occurs

#99 How Do I Feel?

Am I comfortable?
Too hot? Too cold?
Hungry? Tired?
Sad? Happy?,

I wrack my brain. What do they want to hear? What is the right answer? I scarcely inhabit my body so I know that I cannot find the answer there.

Are they too hot, hungry and sad? I'll agree with them.
Are they too cold, tired, but happy? I'll be that too.

In the face of these kinds of questions, I need to come up with a response quickly before the panic of unknowing begins to show. The stunned silence, the furrowed brow, the stammering does not make a good impression. "I actually don't know what I feel," is not believable to most people.

It is only in the extremes that I become aware and then I am no good at naming the feelings. Scared, panic stricken, terrified. My body can only identify fear feelings. Everything else I have to guess at or, like a chameleon, try to blend in with those around me.

#98 hanging in there

they tell me that
old age is not for sissies
i'm here to tell you that
neither is mental illness

an uphill struggle
carrying the weight of the world
battling demons
shaking off crisis after crisis
putting the pieces back together
one more time

and going on

i know now that
i will never give up the fight
too much hard work
too many tears shed
too much brutal pain
too many times
dragging myself in off the ledge
to let it all be for nothing

so if it takes guts
to grow old
i think i have what it takes

#97 Marblehenge, A Safe Place

#96 The Burning Place

#95 Frustration!!!

It is beginning to dawn on me that I cannot tolerate frustration in all its myriad forms. My mother didn't teach me because she was unable to handle her own. If I got frustrated, she got physical with me.
While my brain is going round and round about how terrible a situation is, how rotten people are to me, and how it is all going to end in catastrophe the agitation grows bigger and bigger. I can’t interrupt the babble in my head to inject some reason. There are no volume or intensity controls up there. The on/off switch is in my body.
I know that if I inflict physical pain on myself, the frustration will instantly disappear.
Self-injury is the off switch.

#94 All My Own Fault!

Everything bad that has ever happened to me, I have filed under, "Rylee's Own Fault."
My mother built this filing cabinet for me before I could even talk. Everything went into it.
From my earliest days, a favourite phrase of my mother's was, "you made your bed now lie in it."
No matter what distress I was in, apparently I had brought it on myself.
No matter that I could not remember or understand what I had done exactly, I was solely responsible for my predicament.
All the shame, humiliation, helplessness, abuse, terror, suicidal panics, poor choices, self-injury are locked away as "Rylee's Own Fault."
Until now, it has been very difficult for me to work through the painful parts of my past because I was so well indoctrinated.
All I can think about is that it was my own stupid fault!

#93 Come Out, Come Out, Whoever You Are.

#92 Creativity

If your creative endeavours pay for food and shelter, then your art is likely to feel like work, at least some of the time. However, even though, I do not pay the rent with my paintings, for some reason, I allow my art-making to become hard work. I don’t enjoy the process as much as I would like to because I always have my eye on the end product.
It is work, because it supplies me with things that are nearly as important as food and shelter. If I do a good job, my art will bring me visibility, connection, admiration, and self-worth. The very things that I was starved for growing up might come my way. I barely enjoy making art anymore, because I am so hungry for the good feelings I might get if I can please people with the result.

#91 A Lifetime of Fear

People who felt safe in their childhoods never really lose that sense of trust in the world that their parents were able to provide for them but those of us who lived with coldness and recurring chaos never lose that fearfulness. It can be dialled down to a nagging worry or a kind of free floating anxiety. During stressful times it gets dialled up to full blown panic or real terror.

Every morning we wake up to the fact that nowhere is a safe place for us.
We go into the world battle ready. We go into the world alone because we have not learned to trust. We go into the world without the skills we need to negotiate with others and to navigate our journey.

We will do almost anything to escape the constant fear and what we do angers and frightens others. We are weighed down with psychiatric labels and get stuck in the system.

We are frightened. We are lost. We are alone.

#90 The Hiding Place

I have been an analyzer all my life. I've insisted on a logical explanation for everything that crossed my path. As long as I can remember I have been in my head trying to figure stuff out. Even though I seldom come up with definitive answers to the who(s) what(s), where(s), when(s) and why(s) of everything, the constant questioning serves to distract me from my feelings. The constant thinking has become my security blanket. It has turned out to be a safe place to hide.

#89 Flashbacks

I think everyone has some experience of flashbacks even if they don't use that word. We get a peculiarly clear memory of something that we were not thinking about or a rush of feeling comes from something we hear or smell. These can be pleasant or unpleasant.

Flashbacks arising out of long ago traumatic events are always horrific and shocking. Without prompting, my mind will produce snapshots of people or events from my past and my body is instantly flooded with fear. Something insignificant in the real world, or on television, will leave me swamped with panic or rage. These flashbacks can contain what seems to me to be new information but is probably just information newly released from where I buried it long ago.

The triggers vary and, unbidden, my body gives up a distressing memory or replays overwhelming emotions from the past. The present is gone and I am trapped inside an experience that I did not believe I could survive the first time around.

And here it has come back again.